Requiem: Unsung
by go.so.slowly
Summary: While the castaways are being rescued, Kate fakes her own death to escape prison. All the castaways believe her to be dead, except for one. this is the aftermath. Spoilers up to 3x11.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Requiem: Unsung  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: While the castaways are being rescued, Kate fakes her own death to escape prison. All the castaways believe her to be dead, except for one. this is the aftermath. Spoilers up to 3x11.  
Warnings: Some language, sexual situations, possibly a bit of violence.  
Status of Fic: WIP.  
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC.

A/N - This begins three years _after_ Kate fakes her death. Flashbacks/memories are in italics, so you'll know what they are when you see them. Without futher ado...

Sawyer was a hot mess. He reeked of whiskey and cigarettes and a masculine, predatory scent that mingled strangely but not altogether unpleasantly with the other scents. He sat in a bar somewhere in Philadelphia, drowning his anger and self-pity in the blur of alcohol.

There was something different about the air tonight, something that put Sawyer on edge. He needed some release. A bar fight. A good lay. Something. He scanned the room, looking for nothing in particular. A few college guys complaining about their high-maintenance girlfriends. Businessmen drinking the edge off their workdays. A young woman staring straight at him.

His hazy eyes came to rest on her, traveling slowly over her body, the way a leopard might look at a gazelle just before its attack. The woman, whoever she was, did not flinch, but simply arched one dark eyebrow in response.

Sawyer took this as his cue, and after collecting two shots of whiskey, made his way over to the woman.

"Shortcake, you look like a woman who can hold her liquor," he placed a shot in front of her and smiled suggestively.

"You could tell that just by looking at me, huh?" The woman spoke without any shyness, without the usual feminine lightless Sawyer inspired in the opposite sex.

She reminded him of someone, though he couldn't remember who. Hell, Sawyer had been with more women than some men _met_ in a lifetime, of course he couldn't place the similarities. Still, something about her demeanor made him uneasy. But Sawyer was not to be defeated.

"I can tell a lot of things by just looking at you, cupcake," Sawyer drawled.

"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from addressing me by the names of your favorite desserts."

Sawyer whistled. And then smiled.

"My name is Maria, and in case you were actually wondering, I can hold my liquor." And she downed the shot, smiling confidently.

Sawyer laughed. Really laughed. For the first time in a long time, "The name's Sawyer."

"I'll bet it is," Maria replied, though her tone was no longer confrontational, but flirtatious.

Maria was attractive; she had a pretty mouth, a toned body, and long dark hair. Sawyer thought she probably would be a lot more attractive if she were wearing less makeup, though. He never did care much for the stuff. But she was pretty enough. He was looking for a lay, not a wife. Still, there was something about her that intrigued him.

"So what brings you to Philadelphia, Sawyer?" Maria asked.

"How do you know I'm not a native?" He challenged, eyeing her hungrily.

She laughed. "You are _not_ a native, the accent's a dead giveaway. But nice try. So what is it… a life of crime? Are you seeking vengeance? Following the woman of your dreams?"

Sawyer's mood changed at her words, almost imperceptibly. Maria didn't notice.

He met her gaze. He was not here to make friends. No more games.

"You want to get out of here?" He asked plainly.

"And go where?"

Sawyer's slow smile told Maria to where. She nodded quietly. "Alight."

They made their way down the dark streets in silence and occasionally their hands would bump against each other, reminding them that they were not going home alone tonight.

The motel certainly was no place to take a date. It was, however, the perfect place to take a stranger you just met in a bar for some quick, anonymous sex.

Sawyer opened the door and pulled Maria in behind him. The room was nondescript, bare, and unwelcoming. Neither seemed to notice.

Sawyer wasted no time. His lips were on her as soon as the door swung shut, moving from that pretty mouth to her neck and collarbone. His hands slid under her shirt, pulling it up over her head. She responded eagerly, without trepidation, pulling his shirt off, working the buttons of his jeans.

Sawyer pushed Maria down onto the bed, covering his body with hers, feeling the heat increase between their aroused bodies. And then he heard it.

Her voice, small and shy, completely unlike she had sounded at any point that night.

"I just want you to know, I don't do these types of things. Sleep with total strangers. I-I just wanted you to know."

Sawyer pulled back, really looking at her for the first time that night. With the help of the peach glow of the streetlight outside the window, he watched a warm blush creep over her cheeks. And then something else. Something he hadn't noticed before.

Freckles. Little brown freckles speckled merrily across her nose and cheeks.

Something inside Sawyer broke.

He pushed himself off of her in one movement like a man possessed.

"Out!" He shouted, enraged. "Get out!"

"W-What?" Maria asked, frightened.

"Get your things and get out now! Before I make you get out!"

Maria quickly gathered her clothes silently, beginning to cry. She looked at Sawyer, confused and hurt. He looked away. She left the motel, humiliated.

Sawyer sat down, shaken, and ran a hand through his hair.

"_Freckles, if you fall out of that tree, I ain't running back to the beach for help."_

"_I never fall," Kate said, and promptly landed on her feet in front of Sawyer, "Here, have some breakfast," she offered, handing him some tropical fruit he didn't know the name of. _

_Sawyer bit into the fruit, making an exaggerated face of disgust. He sat next to where Kate had settled at the base of the tree._

"_What I wouldn't give for a hamburger…" He mused._

"_You eat hamburgers for breakfast?" She retorted, smiling._

"_Well, _now_ I don't." Sawyer mumbled. Kate laughed. "I'll tell you what, when we get off this damn island of mysteries, we'll have hamburgers a week straight for breakfast."_

_Kate easily could have pointed out how unhealthy that was. Or that she'd probably be in jail when (or if) they got off the island. But this was one of those rare moments when Sawyer was genuinely kind and not the smartass bastard he usually was. She couldn't bring herself to ruin it._

"_Promise?"_

"_It'll be the best damn breakfast you've ever had, Freckles." He smiled and his dimples made him look so much younger than he felt._

"_Can I ask you something, Sawyer?"_

"_Knock yourself out, kitten."_

"_Why do you call me 'Freckles'?" Kate asked._

_Sawyer grinned, feigning confusion, "Because you have freckles."_

_Kate rolled her eyes, "Lots of girls have freckles. I'm pretty sure Claire has some. You don't call her 'Freckles.'"_

"_Maybe I just like yours better." Sawyer had meant for it to sound like a joke, but it didn't. It sounded like maybe he did like her freckles better. Like maybe he thought they were the cutest, most spectacular freckles ever. Which, incidentally, he did._

"_Oh," Kate said, meeting his eyes with a quiet smile on her lips, "Okay then." _

_Kate finished her breakfast looking much like a child might when opening presents on Christmas morning._

Sawyer sighed, falling back into the bed exhausted. Three years after everything fell apart and Kate Austen still controlled every aspect of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Kate set the coffees down on the table, "Anything else?"

"We're okay for right now," One of the businessmen replied, "Thanks."

Kate checked her watch. 12:45. The day could not go any slower.

"Gina!" she called to the other waitress, "I'm taking my break, now."

"Sure thing, sweetie," the older woman replied, smacking her bright pink lips.

Kate stepped out of the stuffy diner, into the cool April air, watching the midday gridlock. She had never been much of a city girl, but after all her years as a fugitive she found that it was probably the safest place she could be. New York was the kind of place a girl could lose herself in. In so many different ways.

Kate had always known exactly who she was. Even when everything was shit. Throughout every trauma and trail of her life, she had been _someone._ When she was on the run, she was someone. She was a fugitive, wanted for murder. She was defined by that title. But she was still someone. On the island, she had been a leader, along with Jack (and sometimes Locke.) She had been innocent on island. She had been loved. But now she was no one. She was a waitress at a hole-in-the-wall diner on the lower east side who barely made enough for rent and groceries. She didn't even _technically_ exist.

She had spent two years on abandon island and yet it was here, among millions that Kate felt alone.

The door opened and shut, a figure blocking the sunlight falling on Kate. It was Gina.

"What's on your mind, Ava, baby?

Kate smiled, but it felt forced even to her, "Nothing. I'm just tired."

"Uh-huh. And I'm Marilyn Monroe." Gina looked disappointed, but relented, "Well, you tell me when you need to."

"Thanks." Kate said it flatly, but was truly grateful. Gina was the first girl friend she'd had in a long time.

Kate tucked her shoulder-length red hair behind her ears. She wondered if she would ever be able to stop hiding. Stop running. Just be herself. She figured that would be the only thing she would miss about the island. How wrong she had been.

_Sawyer was sitting outside his tent; book in hand, soaking up the sun._

He looks so normal from this angle _Kate mused, as she watched him read. _

Time to break the peace. Kate stepped forward, so that she was standing directly in front of Sawyer.

"_Woman! You're blocking the sun! I can't see worth a damn." Sawyer spat out, annoyed._

"_Good," Kate replied, standing her ground._

"_And what's got your panties all in a twist, cupcake?"_

"_Where is all the alcohol, Sawyer?"_

"_Jonesin' for a drink, freckles?"_

"_This isn't a joke. That's the only disinfectant we have for injuries."_

_Sawyer pursed his lips, realizing that all the fun had been sucked from the conversation._

"_Doing the doc's bidding as usual, I see?" Kate just crossed her arms, unimpressed. Sawyer sighed, standing up, "Well, look elsewhere, Austen. I don't know what you're talking about."_

_Sawyer's rather imposing height forced Kate to turn her head up to speak to him, "You're lying!"_

_One eyebrow shot up and a cocky smirk crept its way across Sawyer's mouth, "So what if I am, freckles? What are you going to do about it?"_

_He stepped closer, inches from her, smiling devilishly._

_Kate felt a thrill run through her. A challenge._

"_You _will_ give me those supplies." She said, her voice holding an almost violent tone._

"_I have a better idea."_

_She rolled her eyes, losing patience, "I'll bet you do."_

"_Exactly," Sawyer said matter-of-factly._

"_What?"_

"_A bet. A little wager."_

_Kate raised her eyebrows, skeptical, but waited for him to continue._

"_A game of golf. You win, you can take the alcohol and anything else you want from my stash."_

Anything? _It seemed too easy to Kate, "And if I lose?"_

_Sawyer's mischievous smile slid slowly across his face, lighting it with a boyish charm that Kate found both endearing and disarming, "If you lose, I get a kiss."_

"_A kiss?!" Kate exclaimed, incredulous. _This man has some nerve, _Kate thought, reeling. "Dream on, Sawyer."_

_He shrugged lazily, settling himself back down in the sand, "Fine by me, shortcake. You just better hope nobody needs that anti-septic anytime soon."_

_Kate felt like stomping her feet, pulling her hair out, punching a wall in. This man was so frustrating. She turned to leave, infuriated with Sawyer for being a chauvinistic bastard. Infuriated with Jack for putting her in this position. Infuriated with this damn island, its lack of medical supplies, and its tendency to mysteriously injure its residents._

But what would she tell Jack? That she put the camp's safety in danger because she was unwilling to bet on a harmless game of golf?

_She turned, hands on her hips, "When?"_

_He grinned, arrogantly, "I knew you'd come around, Freckles."_

_Kate wanted to slap him._

"_Tomorrow," Sawyer continued, "Around noon."_

"_Fine."_

"_Oh, and I should tell you, Sugar…"_

"_What?" She snapped, annoyed._

"_I'm a fantastic kisser. Prepare yourself."_

_Kate groaned, exasperated and enraged, turning on her heel._

_She could hear Sawyer laughing all the way back to her tent._

"Ava? Ava!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Gina. I was zoning out." Kate replied, breaking from her reverie.

"I'll say. You were in a whole different place,. Gina looked at Kate carefully, sensing something. "Listen, why don't you head home, sweetie? You don't look well."

Kate began to argue, but Gina held up a hand in that no-nonsense kind of way that said she was not going to relent.

Kate actually felt relief flood her. She was exhausted. "Thank you," she said; giving her a quick hug, "I'll make it up to you."

Gina waved her wrist, "Don't even think about it."

Kate walked back to her apartment in a trance. New York was expensive, and as Kate was not exactly rich she didn't live in the best neighborhood. Or the cleanest.

She pushed herself up the six flights to her apartment (the elevator was broken, again.) Kate stepped into the apartment, glancing around, disheartened. How had this become her life? Just a few years ago, she had been free. True, she had been stranded on an abandoned island, but she had been free. And happy.

She sat on the couch, dazed. She had never felt so alone. Her hands came up to her face, shaking. When the tears began, Kate's only thought was how silly it was for her to be sitting alone in her apartment crying on such a lovely April afternoon.


End file.
